Expectant Joy

This year my family awaits the arrival of my youngest niece’s baby boy, due December 28. He will be the firstborn of his generation in this branch of the family. Our Advent season of waiting, wondering, hoping and praying began in the summer when she shared this news and has now taken on the true mystery and magic of this time of year.

Somewhere during this long Advent, I started an overdue project of going through boxes of family photos, which brought joy as well as poignant moments peering at the faces of those lost too soon. Along with photos, I have become the recipient of a small cache of family history in letters, articles and pamphlets allowing me to catch swirling, snow globe glimpses of my origins.

I smile at letters between my grandmother Virginia, known as Gin, and her sisters and brothers, each with their own nifty nickname like Ede, Bunch, Pike and June (a junior). In the summer, while visiting my younger brother, we strike a deal–I will get the painting by our great aunt of our father at 20 (we think) who our nephew strongly resembles, with a promise to send my brother portraits of my grandparents in exchange.

The strong cheekbones and curly hair of my oldest niece look out at me in a young photo of my other grandmother who got short shrift in my self-absorbed youth. I make a silent wish that I could talk to her now and an apology that I didn’t do so more when I had the chance. Not too many days later a packet arrives from my uncle that includes an old photo of me with her and one of a great grandfather I had never seen.

I realize they have all been clustering forward this year, reminding me they are still here, even very near, and always have been. Perhaps on the other side they are throwing a going away party for the soul about to join us, sharing wisdom for the journey, sad to see him go, yet filled with joy at the promise of his life. What past will he carry? What future? How will we nurture his awesome light and honor his courage to come? We wait with love in expectant joy.